


Stay

by inzayndigo



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxious Zayn, But sometimes its hard for him to see that he is, Depressed Zayn, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I overdo Zayn's smallness, M/M, Petite Zayn, Protective Danny, Protective Liam, Sad Zayn, Shy Zayn, Size Kink, Stressed Zayn, That size kink is mine, Therapy, Tiny Zayn, Trust Issues, Zayn is so loved, Zayn-centric, needy zayn, small zayn, suicidal, unhappy zayn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-09-11 17:35:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9000214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inzayndigo/pseuds/inzayndigo
Summary: Maybe Zayn didn’t want all of this… But maybe he had good reasons to stay





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic has been with me for a very, very long time. I wrote the beginning several years ago and continued to write excerpts for this over the years. A lot of it involves true events. However, Zayn leaving the band and coming forth with anxiety is something that happened much later. Having said this, it is very much reflected in Zayn’s character in this story… (Guess Zayn stans just weren’t all that shocked with either tbh)

“Where is Zayn?” Brian Friedman’s voice echoed through the now quiet arena. Everyone looked around, despite not really knowing what this Zayn looked like. Liam stood twitching at the front, hating the delay. All he wanted was to get it over and done with.

 

“Does anyone know where Zayn is?”

 

Liam’s eyes dropped to the floor when he saw Simon get up to find the missing boy himself. There was a certain person who had pretty much killed their chances of getting through to the live shows because he didn’t want to dance and on top of that, he was probably going to have to face a very angry Simon. He let out a deep breath, his hands twitching as he waited for Simon to come back with the boy.

 

**~~~**

 

As everyone filed off the stage and started making their way out of the hall, Liam spotted the small figure he recognised as Zayn, standing before a cameraman. He watched from a distance, wondering how awful it must feel to be him. Every time Liam had looked up whilst he performed, the judges were staring at Zayn. And now he had a camera shoved in his face. When he saw the cameraman walk off, and Zayn hide his face in his hands, letting out a frustrated sigh, he found himself- almost subconsciously- walking over towards him. 

 

Zayn stood with his back to Liam, looking off towards the exit

 

"Can't decide whether or not to leave yet?"

 

He whirled around. His eyes wide; startled. 

 

"I-I'm just waiting for it to clear up a bit, you know?" He replied, his voice low. 

 

"I see. My name's Liam, how are you?" he smiled, his hand extended out towards the smaller boy. Zayn didn't show any intention of moving. He scanned Liam. Something about his lean body, white shirt and black skinny jeans just didn't seem as welcoming to Zayn as his puppy dog face. 

 

_It is just a facade Zayn. You're the laughing stock here. The small kid who didn't want to dance. You're going home mate and they all know it. He isn't even being_ nice, _he is just pitiful that you were stupid enough to ruin it for yourself._

 

"I'm sure you know my name," Zayn said, walking off towards the exit without bothering to look back.

 

Liam was a tad bit shocked but he didn't think about it too much. Obviously Zayn was just upset and Liam didn't have to act like Zayn was any of his business because he really wasn't. 

 

"Way to go," he said under his breath. 

 

**~~~**

 

"Rumour is this one girl added her own rap to a song and the judges loved her so much that she is definitely through." 

 

"Do you know who she is?"

 

"Nah, but I guess they're looking for originality? All we can do is wait and hope what we did was enough."

 

"Do you think you were original?" Liam asked. 

 

"I don't know, people say I'm unique and shit but I don't _rap_ ," He let out a nervous chuckle, shuffling his feet as he wished the minutes to pass by faster. 

 

Liam stood with Aiden Grimshaw, crowded backstage with all the other contestants. Soon the judges would make decisions, crushing dreams or bringing people closer to them. 

 

"I don't either, guess we can come back together next year after we've learnt to," Liam replied. He didn't laugh though. Didn't even try. It wasn't funny. Neither of the boys wanted to go home, even if they could come back the next year. 

 

Liam knew that not making it through today would crush him. He'd been here before, he'd made it _past_ this and if he didn't make it through today the two years had been for nothing. He'd worked his ass off for _nothing_.

 

"Would all the boys like to step onto the stage," a voice echoed through the hall. Liam's eyes quickly flickered with panic and he breathed out in an attempt to calm down.

 

"Good luck mate," he whispered to Aiden before he made his way over to the stairs that would lead him to the judges, a few steps ahead of him.

 

**~~~**

 

Zayn watched as ecstatic boys made their way off stage after their name was called out. 

 

"We're sorry, but that's all we can put through," Nichole said and Zayn sighed. He hadn't been expecting to get through so he simply made an effort to squeeze past everyone and pack his things to finally leave. It was over. 

 

Zayn's eyes locked eyes with teary brown ones. Familiar eyes. Liam. Zayn felt guilty because obviously this had meant a lot to people and here he was as ready as ever to get home. Obviously this competition wasn't for people like him.

 

When the rejected acts were packed and ready to leave, a crew man was back and ushering all the boys into a little huddle.

 

"Zayn Malik," Zayn's eyes widened. He felt like he'd done way too many interviews already and it wouldn't be fair if he was being called for another one right now.

 

"Liam Payne," Zayn quickly looked over and their eyes met once again. Zayn lowered his eyes immediately, wrapping his arms around himself. 

 

"Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson and Niall Horan. Follow me this way," he finished and all five boys stepped forward. 

 

When they were led back on stage, Zayn raised an eyebrow at the fact there were four girls already standing before the judges. His shoulders hunched as he looked to the floor, awkwardly waiting for something to happen. _Anything._

 

"Thank you for coming back everyone," Nichole started. Zayn raised his head, waiting for her to say something more, for any of the judges to say something more. He could hear the cries and whimpers of the four girls echoing throughout the empty arena and he tried his best not to roll his eyes or let out a frustrated huff. 

 

In his mix of anticipation and impatience, Zayn hadn't realised Nichole had said something and Simon had started talking. He'd only realised something had happened - something _good_ had happened - when the girls started crying louder, hugging onto one another, and the boys surrounding him had either sunk to the floor or clasped a hand over their mouth, and _then_ Zayn had realised what Simon had just said.

 

"We've decided to put you both through," and Zayn felt stupid for not having guessed beforehand that they had been formed into groups. What surprised Zayn more than anything was that he felt a lot less happy than he’d have thought he would be. Instead, he felt that familiar tightening in his chest. The uncomfortableness set inside, that feeling of dread. 

 

An image of teary brown orbs made its way inside Zayn’s head , so he quickly looked over at Liam. By then Simon had started talking again, but Zayn's focus moved only from Liam’s smile to the similar smiles on each of his other bandmates. The unease only got worse. 

 

**~~~**

 

 

"So you're in a boyband now?" 

 

"I guess so," Zayn replied. He was sitting in his room, packing. His two best mates, Danny and Anthony were standing around in his room.

 

"And you're leaving earlier than expected because you all don't know what it is like to be a band?" Ant continued asking. 

 

"Of course he knows what it is like to be part of a boyband. You act pretty and get all the bitches. Isn't that right, Malik?" Danny said, clapping a hand onto the younger boy's back as he sat down next to him on his bed. Zayn let out a light laugh.

 

"I guess you should be in a boyband instead of me. You've always been better with the ladies."

 

"You seem kind of worried," Anthony said, looking over from where he was standing in front of Zayn's tall boy, fiddling with all of Zayn's things. He held a small jar of hair gel in his right hand and kept twisting the cap on and off. 

 

"I guess I am, Ant," he sighed, getting up and gently probing the jar out of his hands, "I don't know these boys... What if we don't even get along? I'm stuck at Harry's stepfather's house for a week..."

 

"I'm sure you'll have fun with those white boys," Danny laughed. 

 

"Fuck off Danny! I'm already nervous as it is," he sighed again. He stood in the middle of his room, hesitating for a second. A hand found it's way into his matted hair, pulling at it aggressively. 

 

"Guys..." he started off saying, his voice weak.

 

"What's wrong?" Danny replied from his spot on Zayn's bed, raising one of his eyebrows.

 

"Guys, I fucked up at bootcamp," If it were somebody other than Danny and Ant, they would not have been able to understand Zayn's mumble.

 

"You obviously didn't if your got through to the next round," Danny reasoned. 

 

"Don't you want to be in the band? You could always bail out now and go back as a solo next year."

 

"No, no Ant," he groaned, "you don't get it. Look, we had to _dance._ I know it sounds fuckin' ridiculous and it was, and I refused to do it. And now I am the whining pussy who didn't want to fuckin' dance!"

 

"Oh... They'll forget that ever happened, so what are you worried about?" 

 

"Yeah mate, listen to Danny! You're great and are going to blow everyone away with your voice! You're talented as, man!"

 

Danny was able to recognise Zayn worrying because of the way he chewed at his bottom lip. So he turned to Anthony, using his demanding _big brother_ voice that Anthony had learnt to never argue with. _Ever._

 

"Go to Trisha and tell her Zayn's getting all nervous, so-"

 

"I'm not ' _getting all nervous_ '" he mimicked, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing; much like a five year old.

 

" _So,"_ Danny continued, rolling his eyes at Zayn, "ask her to make him something to eat-"

 

"I'm not hungry though..." He interrupted again.

 

"And maybe even something to drink because right now he looks like he is ready to back out of it all," and he _finally_ made eye contact with Zayn, giving him a small smile.

 

Anthony gave a small nod, quickly leaving the room to talk to Zayn's mum, who by now felt like a second mother. 

 

"C'mere," Danny pressed quietly, voice firm, leaving no room for arguing, patting the spot next to him on the bed. Zayn hesitated for a second before walking over towards him. Danny guided Zayn's head so it was resting on his shoulder. 

 

"Wha's wrong?" He mumbled against Zayn's hair as he played with it, fingers tangled in the thick black locks.

 

Anthony wasn't there so he knew he _had_ to tell Danny everything. Nothing against Anthony personally. It was just, Danny was Zayn’s best friend. He knew everything about him, more than anyone else ever could. And due to Zayn’s quiet nature, one friend knowing everything was more than enough.

 

“You know how I did this because of the whole anxiety thing…?” Zayn said, moving so his lips were moving against Dan’s chest, hiding himself. It was like he was trying to push himself further into Danny's chest as if somehow he’d just _disappear._ Danny gently pushed Zayn off his chest and used his fingers to tilt his face up so they could lock eyes. Danny just hated how _small_ Zayn sometimes made himself, like he was uncomfortable in his own skin.

 

“Yeah?” he pressed.

 

“This wasn’t part of it,” he said, eyes still locked to Danny’s because of the fingers under his chin still tilting his face up. “I wanted to audition, I wanted to get through and that was it. I wanted to make Brenda proud, Mum proud, I wanted to just make Doniya _fucking shut up_ about me not being able to sing because her saying that _fucking hurts_.” 

 

“They are proud, Zayn. I’m proud,” he replied, his fingers leaving Zayn’s chin to go back to running through his hair instead. “And Doniya… that’s just what siblings will always be like, Zee. Even Ant and I are like that and he’s one of my best friends. It doesn't mean she actually thinks you can’t sing. You can and you're amazing and everyone knows that.”

 

They sat in the quiet for a while. Zayn’s eyebrows were drawn together, his lips in a frown, in deep thought.

 

“It’s just, when I was standing there waiting for my name to be called, there was nothing I wanted more than to just go home.” Zayn quietly said. “And when they didn’t call my name I felt relieved, y’know? I know this is selfish because there are four other people in this band who obviously want this more than I do, but I really hope we don’t make it past Judge’s Houses,” he whispered the last bit, a secret just between the two of them. 

 

Danny didn’t say anything, just nodded. He knew not to say anything so that Zayn wouldn't shut down. He was just glad he would at least open up to him. He couldn’t stop Zayn from feeling how he did, and if Zayn thought he wasn’t ready for live shows then that was okay. He was so proud of him regardless.

 

"Do... Do you think I'm girly, Dan?” Danny’s eyes widened at Zayn’s question, the soft, hesitant voice bringing him back to reality. 

 

"Define girly,” he said, his arms wrapping protectively around Zayn’s small body.

 

"I don't know... Do you think I whine too much? Or that I'm always seeking attention? Or that I always need someone to be looking over me or guiding me? Like I am too stupid to do it on my own?" Danny couldn't help but laugh, and in return he got Zayn glaring at him with a disapproving scowl on his face. 

 

"Is that your definition of girly? I really don't think many girls would be happy with that."

 

"You aren't answering my question," he huffed, arms crossing over his chest and a pout appearing on his face.

 

"No, Zayn. I don't think you're like that at all," He was fighting at a smile, trying to sound convincing. But Zayn was still staring up at him.

 

"Don't _lie_ ," he whined. 

 

"I'm _not,_ " but the smile wouldn't disappear from the corners of his lips.

 

"You think I'm girly..." He whispered.

 

"We'll, not _girly_. You're a bit shy is all," he smiled at him fondly. 

 

"That's girly..."

 

"Oh it is _not._ Besides, I like you just the way you are," he laughed.

 

"I don't," he muttered under his breath. "Okay," he tried again, straightening up, "do you think I meet the stereotype of being gay?" He whispered the last word, scared someone would hear.

 

"I seriously hope not! Even I wouldn't have guessed if you hadn't have told me, and I'm your best friend!”

 

“It’s just… Look at us, Danny. The way you hold me, the way you caress me… You wouldn’t do with any other mates. Why’s that?”

 

“I just feel the need to protect you, Zayn. And you’re cute, is all. You have the same effect on everyone.”

 

“ _Because_ I am girly!”

 

“Because I don’t want you to end up hurt,” Danny corrected, “That’s why I'm protective. The caressing and all can stop if you’d like me too, but I just try my best to comfort you and I know this helps.”

 

Zayn sighed, defeated. It made sense. Didn’t help with how he felt like a fucking nuisance, though. Needy. Pathetic. 

 

“Kind of glad you won’t let me ask Anthony out…” he mumbled, his eyes shutting as he settled himself back on Danny’s shoulders.

 

“I didn’t say you couldn't ask him out. I just said to wait a bit. You know Anthony will agree to going out with you because he'll think he _has_ to. You're one of his best mates, man! He's only fifteen, give him some time to figure things out for himself..." He smiled, gently petting Zayn's hair as if he were a puppy or something. “But why are you glad?”

 

“Don’t think we would work now that I think about it…” he murmured. “I love him loads Danny, but even if you don’t _say_ it, you agree that I am needy. I don’t think Anthony can give me the sort of attention I need… That protective kind you were talking about…”

 

"Maybe you could find yourself another love interest. Maybe one of those white boys from your band," he laughed, trying to ease the tension. Zayn was still figuring things out. Things would be okay in the end, he knew it.

 

"You're not funny,” Zayn huffed, getting up. 

 

 

**~~~**

 

That night when Danny and Anthony had gone home, Zayn hesitantly entered the kitchen. His mum stood at the sink, washing away at the dishes they'd used for dinner whilst his Dad sat at the table completing some paperwork. He took a seat next to him. 

 

"I don't really get it, I was always doing paperwork when I was studying to become an accountant, I do it at the office and I do it home, it never stops," his Dad chuckled when he'd acknowledge Zayn's presence, not having to look up. 

 

Zayn smiled fondly at his Dad, as he worked away. For as long as he could remember, his Dad would come home from work, only to work again. His mum would talk away on a cheery high, but Zayn suspected that his Dad was never listening. Any day he didn't have work to complete he would spend it with his kids, especially his youngest daughter Safaa. And for years on end, he asked Zayn to sing him a song, and when he was a kid, he did but as he grew older his confidence decreased and so his Dad hadn't heard him sing a song in _years._

 

Zayn's mum had finished washing the dishes so she walked over to the table, taking a seat opposite Zayn. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. 

 

"Something wrong, Honey?" His mum gave him a small smile, worry evident on her face. "Anthony was saying you were a bit anxious about going to Harry's tomorrow."

 

"I guess, but when am I not anxious?" He tried laughing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Brief description of self-harm

The thing is, they did make it past Judge’s houses. And it felt like Zayn’s brain had short-circuited because he hadn’t _planned_ what would happen if they did get through to the live shows. He had just hoped and prayed and somehow convinced himself that they just _wouldn’t_.

And that’s how Zayn ended up trapped in his room for over a week, refusing to come out, skipping meals and avoiding communication. His parents worried; his mother begging him to eat all day long, reassuring him everything was going to be just fine. He ignored every text and call he received from both Dan and Ant, until they finally showed up banging on his bedroom door demanding to be let in. He considered ignoring them even then but then he heard Doniya scream “Just open the fucking door you freak! You’re driving everyone insane!”

So Zayn reluctantly got out of bed and opened the door. The brothers took in Zayn’s messed up hair and his tired eyes as he stood before them shirtless, clad only in a pair of sweatpants. They pushed their way in past the smaller boy, and closed the door shut.

“What the actual fuck is going on!?” Danny asked, getting straight to the point. He sounded agitated but his eyes were filled with concern. When Zayn did nothing but shrug, Danny stepped forward, put his hands on Zayn’s shoulders and squeezed.

“Here’s how I see it Zayn,” Danny said gently, “Things like this don’t just happen. This is a huge deal Zayn and I promise you there’s a reason for it. Everything is an experience, Zee. And we learn from experiences. No matter how long you last in that competition - whether you go home the first week or you guys win - it’s for a reason.”

“You sound like Brenda,” Zayn said dismissively.

“Well that’s great because I didn’t even need to get a degree,” he laughed.

 

~~~

 

When live shows finally rolled around Zayn was fucking nervous - worse than that even. Zayn liked to think he had his anxiety under control now, with all the sessions with Brenda, and all she had taught him, and the medication. And maybe he understood it more - had _better_ control of it - but no way did he actually seem to have it "under control".

Just over four hours before the first show and he had locked himself in the bathroom, trying to stop his hands from shaking and the tears from escaping. Trying to do those stupid breathing exercises Brenda had taught him. His clothes were waiting for him - a flannel and ill-fitted jeans that made him feel a bit ridiculous, really. He was just tired of feeling so uncomfortable in himself, that even what he had to _wear_ was triggering his anxiety. He kept telling himself it would be okay but what if he messed up again like in the rehearsals and was off time? What if he tripped up or his voice broke? The whole country was watching... So many people, including people from Bradford.

But then when he was standing up on stage, he felt exactly the opposite. Anxiety made him feel small. Tiny. It would spiral out of control and have him feeling _weak, insignificant_ even. Like everything around him was too much. But on stage he felt like there was a fire burning in his chest, in a good way though - in the best way. Like someone had pumped his veins with gasoline so that he had that extra boost race cars had. He did not feel so small, not so insignificant. He felt grounded. Like the times he would let the smoke fill up and wrap around his lungs like a blanket. Or the times when it'd get so bad and his brain would be racing and he'd steal one of his Dad's razor blades. That feeling of relief when the skin would first rip and the satisfaction that soon followed when the red ink spilled over and it began to sting. It reminded him of all the times he finally felt human. Like he was there, in that moment, existing. It was refreshing, because he always seemed to feel like he was floating. That lack of grip on his life. And even though the stage was so big, and the stadium even bigger, and his voice was getting drowned out by the other boys, he had never felt so empowered.

He couldn't stop smiling from the second the performance ended. Not when the judges were giving their comments, not when they ran off stage and gave each other a hug, not when Danny and Ant came running towards him backstage and enveloped him in their arms, and not when his mum kept peppering kisses all over his face and told him how she proud she was of him through her tears.

And that's when Zayn thought maybe this is what he was set out to do. This is what made him happy. For the first time since this whole thing started, he was genuinely hoping they'd make it through to the next stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit short, I am so sorry. Hope you enjoyed it though. Just wanting to set up Zayn's character a bit


End file.
